Chapter 7: Sam’s Broken Life

(5)

Later, I learned more from a colleague whose relative was a cop. Sam had always worked third shift at the old GM plant, the kind of job that chewed you up and left you hollow. He was quiet, kept to himself. After his daughter died—an accident, they said—he changed. Wouldn’t talk to anyone.

He kept insisting his daughter didn’t fall by accident. But when people asked him who was to blame, he just muttered, “The murderer is the moon. The moon. The moon.”

Months before the crime, Sam quit his job and disappeared. Nobody really noticed.

Now, looking back, his resignation was a red flag. He’d always lived here—where was he going? The cops figured he’d lost touch with reality.

When the murder happened, he reappeared, killed Henry Young, dumped the body, and then hid out for weeks, drifting near another school.

One day, a shop owner recognized him, quietly called the police. When they came for him, Sam tried to take a student hostage and was shot dead.

They never figured out why he killed Henry or why he haunted that school. The official answer was that grief over his daughter broke his mind, and he lashed out at the world.

That was the end—quick, brutal, and senseless. For the newspaper, just another headline. For the rest of us, a story to keep you awake, wondering where justice really ends and tragedy begins.